Sentences
by Cozymansam
Summary: It's been a rough couple of months after his friends' deaths. But life is supposed to continue after death. Pony had a writing assignment, and asks Soda for help. Just one sentence. But Soda doesn't have a sentence. Sorta humorish...


Pony frowned hard at his paper. His brows creased together, and he thought hard. Since when had English been his failed class? Since when had anything been his failed class? But his English grade had nosedived- again. Last year he had written the last minute theme about Johnny, and Dally, and the rest, and he'd thought after that he could keep his grades up, but obviously he was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't try, not at all, he just couldn't think of anything else to write. Darry was angry, but Soda had only laughed, messed up his hair, and told him that he had just used up all his words doing that theme last year. That made Pony feel a little better at the time, and then they had all gone out and played football.

That made Pony think about Johnny, and how they used to be on a team with Darry because they were the smallest, but after he wrote that theme, Pony could think about Johnny without hurting so much. He could handle it. It was as though when he wrote about Johnny and Dally and the rest, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was no longer as burdened by their deaths.

But now Darry had decided that something had to be done about Pony's English grade. The solution, Darry had decided was to keep Pony in his room until he found something to write about- and wrote it. Soda thought that Darry was way too uptight about this- having dropped out of school to work at a gas station, he had never seen the importance in academics Darry saw, or the importance in sports both Darry and Pony shared. That was another thing, no more track until the grades went up. Pony was miserable, but at least Soda was there to make light of the situation. He kept sneaking into their room and giving Pony food, and distracting Pony so he could do necessary things such as go to the bathroom. Darry tended to forget.

Pony really wanted to get out of the room though. He'd been in there from friday night until today, which was sunday. At least he could escape to go to school tomorrow. but he desperately wanted to just get this thing done and over with. Darry was at work, so Pony could leave the room, he just had to be there when Darry got back from work or else he'd be in trouble.

"Soda!" He shouted. Soda came into in the room grinning.

"Getting tired of the room yet?" He asked cheerily. Pony rolled his eyes.

"You have no idea. Anyway, I need help." Soda stared at Pony.

"You know I'm dumber than you are, there's no way I can help you. I'll just flunk you even farther." Pony glared at him. He had given up hope on stopping Soda from calling himself dumb, but it still bothered him that Soda was a drop-out.

"All I need is one sentence." Pony told him. "Just one lousy sentence and I can write." Soda thought.

"I don't have a sentence."

"Oh come on." Pony whined. "You've got to be kidding me." Soda grinned.

"Sorry. Guess you'll be stuck here forever." Pony glared at his brother.

"Thanks a lot. Please, just one sentence and I can finish this thing."

"You mean start it?" Soda asked, eyeing the blank page. Pony flushed. Then he tackled Soda, surprising him. Soda laughed, and struggled against Pony's hold. Soda was bigger, but Pony was strong for his size and age, so the match was fairly even. Or it would have been, had Darry not decided to come home from work at that minute. Darry was plenty loud, slamming the poor screen door, and stomping around, but Soda and Pony were too wrapped up to notice him. That is, until he ran into the room glaring.

"What are you doing!" He shouted. Pony got up immediately.

"Soda was giving me an inspiration for a story." Pony mentally thanked Soda. If he was confused he didn't show it.

"And how exactly are you doing that?" He inquired.

"Well, I needed to write about a fight, and er, well, I wanted to write while having the experience fresh on my mind so Soda helped me. Darry harrumphed.

"Fine." And it was true. A half hour later, he was sitting down writing his piece. And the first sentence went as so, "I don't have a sentence."

So, There we go. I kind of forgot about this and then finished it on a whim, so, whatever. I don't really care so much about it. Thank you very much to Happy Corn for telling me you don't have a sentence. I worked out in the end. Sorry for typos and such. And boy, two publications in two days. I am on a roll. As always, stay gold.

~Cozy


End file.
